


wretched and divine

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Royalty AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier was marrying the beautiful Yennefer of Vengerberg, forging an alliance between their two kingdoms. He should've been happy - she was everything he could ever want, beautiful and witty and brave - and he wastryingto be, really, if only he could stop getting distracted by her knight and childhood friend, Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 109





	wretched and divine

**Author's Note:**

> been a while since i wrote a longer multi-chap fic but we're back baby! and yes it's another royalty au... are we surprised?
> 
> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

Jaskier stood by his mother’s side in front of the thrones, head held high and shoulders pushed back.

His mother was talking, hushed, with a few of the royal guards. Jaskier strained to hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

“They’ve just arrived, Your Majesty—”

“And the girl?”

“She’s beautiful, my lady—”

Jaskier stopped listening after that, turning back to the doors. He was waiting, patiently, to meet the person he would be marrying in a month. The wedding was planned for his eighteen birthday.

He had been engaged far longer than that, of course, since his fourteenth birthday. But in all that time he had never met his betrothed, though he had seen paintings of her. Yennefer of Vengerberg was everything he could’ve wished for.

She was powerful, the daughter of the King of Vengerberg, and no less beautiful than her mother had been, dark hair and striking eyes.

Their alliance would be good for both Vengerberg _and_ Lettenhove. Two powerful nations joined together would be nothing short of unstoppable. They would never be threatened or targeted again. Jaskier understood this, and he respected it.

He was not only going to be married on his eighteen birthday, but _crowned_. Kings sacrificed for their people, even their own happiness. Jaskier was prepared for that, had been for many years. His mother was getting older, and weak. He needed to do this for _her_.

“Julian,” his mother said, because she refused to use his nickname. “Shoulders back, head up.”

He nodded without a word and stood a little taller, squaring his shoulders. Obviously pleased, his mother turned away just before the doors opened and a crowd of knights – not their own – entered the room, swords on their hips.

After them was Yennefer’s father, the King of Vengerberg. Jaskier recognized him from a few of the paintings. He looked dreadful, if he was being honest, but he was never honest. His mother had taught him that a significant part of ruling was _lying_.

Twisting the truth, to make all parties involved feel like they were winning.

Behind him was his daughter – Yennefer – in all her glory. She was even prettier than the paintings, brown skin and dark curls framing her face. She followed her father forward, only stopping when he did, in front of the thrones.

“I am pleased,” his mother began, “to welcome you both to Lettenhove.”

The king – Lidmin – smiled in a way that made Jaskier’s skin crawl. He couldn’t explain why. “It is _our_ honor,” he replied smoothly, reaching out and wrapping an arm around his daughter, “and I can only hope this following month confirms what we already know: that this is what needs to be done, for both of our nations.”

Jaskier didn’t miss the tense line of Yennefer’s shoulders, but she lifted her head and smiled, too sweet.

“We should let the betrothed have a moment to themselves,” his mother continued, “while we talk, Your Highness.” She smiled down at him, from up on the steps that led to the thrones. She was the picture of royalty and power. Jaskier would soon be taking over his mother’s throne, the biggest of them, decorated richly. He didn’t think he’d ever paint such a pretty picture, but he could try. “Don’t you agree?”

Lidmin smiled back. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

She turned to the guards, her own. “Take Yennefer of Vengerberg to her room, as we discussed.” The guards nodded curtly. She had her own room, but it was a mere formality. Jaskier knew they were expected to _bond_ long before the wedding. She turned to Jaskier. “Won’t you be a dear and accompany her?” she asked, though it wasn’t a question.

Jaskier smiled, bowing. “Of course, mother.” He descended the steps gracefully, stopping in front of Yennefer. She really _was_ beautiful. Jaskier had always been a bit of a romantic, hoping he would be the first of his family to find his partner on his _own_ terms, but perhaps – with time – this could work. “Do you mind?” he asked as he offered his arm.

She didn’t smile as she looped their arms together.

Lidmin cleared his throat, hard. “Geralt,” he said, nodding at one of the knights. “Keep an eye on them.” He turned to his mother. “I hope you understand,” he said, and she smiled politely, nodding.

“There is no such thing as being too careful,” she remarked, hands clasped together in front of her.

Jaskier watched as the knight – Geralt, evidently – stepped forward. He – unlike the others – didn’t have a helmet on. Jaskier’s eyes lingered on him for a beat too long.

He was unexpectedly young, compared to the other knights, with long hair, pulled back in a ponytail, and piercing eyes. He wasn’t taller than Jaskier, not by much, but he was _bigger_. Broad shoulders and a thick neck. Jaskier’s eyes flickered to the medallion around his neck; a wolf was etched in it.

Yennefer tugged on his arm, frowning. “Your Highness,” she said dryly. “Are you okay?”

He startled and nodded quickly, noticing his mother – and Lidmin – watching him. “Yes, yes,” he said. Geralt stepped behind them, quiet, following as they walked out of the throne room and down the long hallway. Turning a corner, the guards led them to the room that had been reserved for Yennefer. It was one of their biggest guest rooms.

Entering the room was only them, and Geralt. The guards positioned themselves in the hallway.

“I hope this is big enough,” he said for lack of anything else to say.

Yennefer stepped away from him, looking around the room. Her expression was blank. Jaskier’s skin itched. Geralt was leaning against the door, a bit casual for a knight if you asked him, but it wasn’t _his_ place to say anything. He wasn’t one of their knights.

Besides there was no doubting his capabilities—

His sword was strapped to his hip and his hand rested on it, like he was ready to strike at any moment.

Yennefer swiftly turned back around. “It will do,” she said simply. “You may go now.”

Jaskier hadn’t been expecting that. “But - but - ” he stammered. “Our parents are – ”

Her eyes flashed with something – anger, he thought – as she walked over to him. He could smell her, distinctly, lilac and gooseberries. “And _what?_ ” she asked sharply. “You’re the soon-to-be ruler of Lettenhove, are you not? Do you always listen to your mother?”

Jaskier startled, taking a step back. “I mean – no, of course not, but – ”

“But nothing,” she interrupted breezily. “We’ll be seeing each other at the banquet tonight. Go.”

Jaskier swallowed around the lump in his throat. This was – _different_ , admittedly. Women never challenged him, or even most men. He _was_ the soon-to-be ruler of the nation, and they weren’t fools. “Okay,” he said finally. It wasn’t like they didn’t have time before the wedding. They had weeks, after all. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She didn’t reply, just turned away, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. He sputtered as he took a step back. Yennefer was not what he’d been expecting, neither from the paintings or the rumors. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or not.

She sat on the bed, which creaked lightly under her weight, and pointedly stared out of the window.

Sighing, Jaskier turned and walked to the door. Geralt was still leaning against it. Jaskier waited, patiently, for him to step out of the way. He didn’t.

“Excuse me,” he said finally.

Geralt arched an eyebrow, silent, and stepped out of the way. Frowning, Jaskier reached for the door was Geralt was too fast. He opened the door for him and tilted his head, eyes more expressive than his face, that was for certain.

For moment they just stared at each other until –

“What are you doing?” Yennefer asked. “Stop having a pissing contest, boys, and leave – _both_ of you.”

Geralt seemed to snap out of it – whatever _it_ was – and glanced at her, lounging carelessly on the bed. Jaskier noted her dress was riding up, revealing long, smooth legs. She didn’t seem to notice or care. “I cannot leave you, my lady,” he said firmly, squaring his shoulders.

Jaskier had no real reason to stay, but his feet were glued to the ground as he watched them.

“Stand in the hall,” she drawled, “with the other guards.” Geralt opened his mouth, but she continued over him, “I’m tired and I wish to nap.” She paused, raising both eyebrows. “Is that a problem?”

Of course a knight couldn’t rightfully argue with her. Geralt turned around stiffly and walked out of the room without a word. Jaskier hesitated for a moment before following, closing the door behind him. Out in the hall, surrounded by other guards, he hesitated again.

“Well,” he said.

Geralt leaned against the wall by the door, hand resting on his sword, just like before. He didn’t reply. Jaskier sighed and turned, walking back to his room. He had a banquet he should be preparing for, anyway. In just a few hours the whole Continent would know of their plans to marry in four weeks, officially uniting Vengerberg and Lettenhove.


End file.
